Spare Parts, Chemicals, and Components
by Sh1 n0 m1k0
Summary: An Ebon Hawk Collection of Miscellaneous Debris and Assorted Oneshots. Step inside, Have a look around. Bits and Pieces for every Palate. Sold As Is, No Guarantees, Hard Credits Only.
1. A Quiet Thing

_A/N: I simply cannot play the Knights of the Old Republic games without a notepad nearby. Honestly. My hard drive is full of drabbles and dabbles and other miscellaneous tidbits that came flying out of the game and onto my little bits of paper. I had always planned on writing a walk-through, but every time I sit down to attempt to quilt everything together, it doesn't work very well, and I keep realizing that my little stories work so much better on their own. So enter this motley collection. I hope you enjoy. -Sh1 n0 M1k0_

**A Quiet Thing**

DSF Exile, Disciple

"It is such a quiet thing - to fall. But a far more terrible thing is to admit it."

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She was beautiful.

Disciple watched the Exile sleep, entranced with the way her unnaturally pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness. Her dark hair spilled over her pillow, and strands fell gently across her face. He noticed the way her fingers curled slightly on the covers and how her lips parted, breathing easily.

Almost innocent.

Silently he crept forward, barely breathing for fear of waking this fallen angel. She sighed softly, and he froze as she readjusted herself and curled further under the thin blanket. Tenative fingers reached out slowly, gently brushing the rebellious strands of hair away from her face.

Quietly, he worshipped her - the line of her nose, the angle of her jaw, the fullness of her lips...

Again he reached to her, this time to lightly trace the curve of her ear. It was times like these that he treasured. She was always so distant - so unattainable. Even before the war. It was moments like this that he allowed himself to dream - to hope that someday she might look up and see him there, standing beside her and realize _exactly_ how much she meant to him.

She silently stirred once more. He relaxed as her breathing remained slow and constant, cursing himself for such a foolish weakness. He loved her. The kind of desperate, hopeless love that a follower could hold for an untouchable goddess. Consuming. Disciple realized grimly that he would do anything for her - follow her to his death if she demanded it even. He was hers, totally and completely, and she could do no wrong in his eyes.

Disciple turned from her sleeping form, vowing that he'd never trespass upon her again. The same promise he made every night that he felt drawn to her quarters to watch her sleep. The same promise he could never keep. As he stepped toward the door, a sleepy voice stopped him.

"Mical?" Allyn sat where he had left her, blanket pooled about her waist. The robe she wore was two sizes too big and had fallen down her shoulder, giving him a clear view to the line of her neck and the cut of her collarbone. He blushed.

"I - I'm dreadfully sorry. I shouldn't have -" His stammering died in his throat as she pushed the cover to the side and slid off the bunk. His attention was drawn to the small, knowing smile that never seemed to leave her face, and the fact that the robe she wore was also one of his own. He swallowed hard as she padded toward him.

"Is something wrong?"

The expression on her face was concerned as his tongue continued to stick thickly in his mouth.

Mical coughed and tried again.

"N- no. There's nothing wrong. I just - I didn't mean -"

Her finger was cool against his lips, silencing him, "It's alright." Allyn smiled up at him for a moment before slowly rising on tiptoe to kiss him. Mical clutched her tightly, pouring his devotion into the gesture. And in that moment - that perfect moment - he could forget everything.

He could forget the looks on the faces of the innocents that had died on their quest. He could forget the gleeful way that this woman would charge into battle. Forget how brown her eyes used to be. Forget how the life seemed to be leeching out of her, leaving nothing but a hateful corpse. Forget how unfeeling and spiteful she could be, pitting her crewmembers against each other for her favor. Forget what a monster this lovely creature really was.

Forget. And drown in all the dark promises she stood for, all the temptations that she would waggle in front of his face every time she walked into the room. He was hers, and she could do no wrong in his eyes.

After they parted, she smiled at him again, that knowing smirk that held so little and hid so much, and reached for his hand.

"Come to bed."

And ever-so-quietly, he fell.

_Disclaimer: No ownies._


	2. Sickness

**A/N:** This is fairly old. Please bear with me.

_Kotor I; __LSFRevan_

**Sickness**

"Aargh!"

That was not what she wanted to hear. The blasters sang in her hands as she made short work of the remaining rakghouls. The last one gave out a pained gurgle and collapsed to the ground. In a second, she was at the ashen-faced Carth's side, attempting to get him to show her the forearm that he was clutching tightly.

"Let me see it."

Carth grimaced as she pried his fingers away, "It's not bad."

"I'll be the judge of that."

The sleeve of his pilot jacket was shredded, as well as the flesh underneath. The puncture marks from the bite went deep, and blood was beginning to ooze from the wound. She cuffed the side of his head lightly.

"Idiot. You call this _'not bad'_?"

"Alright, so it's bad."

Raiden quickly unslung her bag from her shoulder and dumped the contents on the ground, hurriedly rummaging through the pile. Before he knew it, Carth found himself stabbed with the familiar hypodermic needle of a medpac, introducing painkillers and antibiotics directly into his bloodstream. She worked quickly, shucking his jacket and wrapping a pressure bandage around his arm.

"Hey, don't touch the jacket..." Carth slurred. The filth was beginning to spin around him, "'Gana gave me that jacket... Rai, why are there two of you? One's enough trouble already..."

The woman made a quick scan of his face, noting the unevenly dilated pupils before easing him down to a sitting position, "This isn't good, Carth."

His eyes widened for a moment, "'Gana? What's wrong? I don't under... stand..." Raiden fumbled for his forehead.

"Dammit, Onasi! How the flying frack can you pick up a fever so quickly?" Realization hit and she began to swear darkly. Suddenly he slumped forward, and she dived to catch him, adjusting to balance his head on her shoulder.

She saw her commlink a short distance away. Groping for it wildly, her fingers barely brushed it, spinning it just enough to put it precious millimeters out of reach. Adjusting Carth's dead weight against her, she tried again, grazing it enough to pull it toward her. She toggled it on.

"Mission? We got problems."

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"Careful... Careful!"

("Easy, Raiden. I will not harm him.")

"I know, Z. It's just... well, you know." Zaalbar gently laid Carth's body on the bunk in their apartment as Raiden supervised closely.

("You are worried. I understand.")

"Yeah. Worried," She nodded absently, busying herself with re-checking Carth's vitals, "I'm gonna go get that damn serum whether I have to take out an entire Sith patrol or not. Now it's personal."

Zaalbar wuffled in agreement, ("Then I shall stay with him. Mission and I were in Javyar's cantina when you called. She was in the middle of a pazaak match, and should still be there.")

Raiden moved to the workbench, quickly swapping spent power cartridges and shoving extras into one of her many pockets. She headed toward the door.

"Alright. I'm gone. Carth Onasi!" She shouted over her shoulder to the still comatose man, "Don't you dare die or go all monstery on me!"

The man mumbled incoherently and she took it as an affirmative. Kadir waved as she jogged by. She ignored him.

Raiden didn't stop moving until she hit the elevator, and even then, she seriously considered maiming the guard for a moment.

"Hold on, civilian. This elevator is off limits unless you have the proper authoriza-"

"I have the bloody papers, now let me pass," Raiden practically bit the poor man's head off as she shoved the official-looking papers that Gadon had traded into the guard's hands. He looked them over awkwardly as she tapped her foot impatiently. The guard grudgingly handed them back to her.

"These look to be in order, be careful down there."

She was already gone.

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"Rai! Rai, over here!" Mission waved from atop a chunk of debris in the Undercity, "I found something!"

Raiden looked up from the body that she was currently looting. They had been searching for hours now with no luck, and every failure was beginning to wear on the woman's already stretched nerves. She scrambled to where Mission stood.

And was rewarded by the sight of not-so-shiny-anymore armor strewn across the clearing.

"They must have been ambushed," Mission's voice was hushed. Raiden was already moving.

"Cover me!" She slid down the decline, and fairly dove on the nearest body, immediately rifling though it's pockets.

Nothing.

She moved to the next corpse.

Nothing.

To her utter horror, the pattern continued up to the very last body and she sank to her knees. Nothing. There was _nothing_. A snapping noise appeared to her left and Mission cried out. Raiden threw herself to the side, blaster extended, only to stare up the barrel of a blaster herself.

"Who are you?" The metallic voice cut through the darkness. There was a patrol of about five other Sith behind the enemy rifle. She lowered her pistol. Her opponent spoke again.

"You obviously aren't a civilian, and you're not spewing loyalties to some swoop gang either. Did HQ send you?"

"Yes," Her mouth started working before she told it to, "I was here with a partner. We hired the twi'lek girl as a guide," She nodded vaguely in Mission's direction, not taking her eyes off the rifle aimed at her face, "We ran out of the rakghoul serum and my partner got infected. I'd been hoping to find some, but," Raiden grinned sheepishly, "No luck."

The Sith lowered his rifle and actually offered a hand to help her up, "It's a good thing we found you then. Here," He he reached into a compartment on his belt and drew out three vials of a glowing green liquid, "Take these, just in case you run into more of those animals."

Raiden accepted them gravely, and tucked them into a pocket, "Thank you."

"No problem. We've got to stick together in this mess," The soldier motioned to his comrades and they began to march away. Suddenly he stopped and turned back.

"Actually, we're here investigating the reports of a couple of Republics running around. Have you seen or heard anything?"

The scout shook her head, "Sorry."

"I see. Good luck, then."

"Right. You too." Raiden watched the group march off into the distance and jumped as Mission flickered into existance right next to her. Raiden scratched her temple, "What the hell just happened?"

The twi'lek shook her head, "No idea. But it was slick," She shot Rai an admiring look, "How did you do that?"

Raiden grinned at the girl, "I have no idea. But let's get this stuff home before it's too late."


	3. Legacy

LSFRevan; LSFExile

**Legacy**

The service was a somber one, professional and polite. Senna lost count of how many people approached her to pass along their condolences. Not that it mattered – it always seemed forced anyway, like showing up was an obligation. Sure, there were plenty of sad faces and lots of sniffling going on, but no one seemed to really _care_ that her mother was dead.

She looked to where her brother stood, lips pressed into a thin line as a Rodian couple assured him that they shared his pain at their terrible loss. He nodded in thanks before catching her gaze in his own. Senna smiled tightly at him and the corner of his mouth quirked in response. A tug on her sleeve drew her attention.

A bright yellow twi'lek threw her arms around Senna's neck and sobbed, causing the young woman to stiffen and pat her back awkwardly. She shot a worried glance in the direction of her brother.

"I'm s- so s-sorry!" The twi'lek wailed into her neck, "She was s-such a w-wonderful woman!"

Senna patted the twi'lek again, wondering just _how_ this emotional basket case could have possibly known her mother and just _what_ her mother did to garner this reaction, "Um... It's alright, really. Thank you for your condolences, Miss..."

"Oh, how rude of me!" The female retracted herself and wiped her eyes dramatically. She grasped Senna's hand tightly, "My name is Lyn. You might have heard of me. After all, I _am _from Starlight Entertainment."

Senna crinkled her nose, '_Starlight what?'_

"How did you know my mother?"

Lyn tittered, "Oh my dear – I owe my entire career to her! She helped me get my start on Taris," she fluttered her eyelashes and dropped her voice conspiratorially, "I'm a Taris survivor, you know."

"Really, how lucky for you -" Senna replied absentmindedly. A high pitched beeping broke into her thoughts.

"Goodness! Look at the time! I really must fly!" Lyn twiddled with her wrist chrono, "Show tonight and all. But dear," She grabbed Senna's hand once more and squeezed, "I really am truly sorry for your loss. Ta ta!"

The twi'lek disappeared with a flurry of activity, leaving Senna blinking. Slowly the woman shook her head, trying to clear it of the confusion. Davan nudged her.

"You doing okay?" He handed her a cup of caffa. She accepted it eagerly.

"I think I'll be alright," She sipped the drink. It burned her tongue, "I'm just starting to get tired of the hoopla."

"Mom _was _a high-profile widow, Sen," He reminded gently, "It's to be expected."

She snorted, "Bureaucrats don't care. They just want to be mentioned in the holo-news as attending the funeral in order to make a good impression on the population."

Davan shook his head, "Don't say that. Some people really care."

"Then I can count the ones I see here on one hand. Have you even _seen _Dustil yet?"

The tall man shook his head again, "That's not fair, Senna. Dustil is Jedi. He's got-"

"Better things to do. Yeah, yeah. Sure. He could _at least -_"

"Excuse me?"

The bickering siblings turned to the small voice. A middle-aged couple stood to the side – the man holding the hand of a small child. The dark-skinned woman smiled nervously, "I'm terribly sorry, but – are you the children?"

Senna nodded dumbly. The woman smiled widely in relief.

"Oh. I thought you were, but I just wanted to be sure. You look so much like her..."

Senna blushed modestly and ducked her head in embarrassment. Davan poked her in the side as the woman continued.

"It's just that – well, Shen and I never really got a chance to thank her for everything that she did for us on Dantooine, and -"

Davan exhaled sharply, "Dantoo -? But what-?" It was Senna's turn to jab him in the side, putting an end to his stuttered confusion.

"She was an exceptional woman," The man, Shen – Senna deducted, broke in, "I know her absence will be felt across the galaxy."

Davan continued to gape as Senna stepped forward to graciously accept whatever sympathies the couple extended. The family embraced them warmly before wandering off into the thinning crowd.

"Dantooine?!" He hissed, "When was mother _ever_ on Dantooine?! I wanted to go there on holiday once, and she talked me out of it! Told me it was a 'damn waste of perfectly good planetary matter'."

She rubbed her temple, "I don't know, Dav. I just don't know. Maybe when you find that out you can tell me just what she was doing on Taris."

"_Taris?!"_

"Remember the neon twi'lek I was just talking to? She claims to have met her there."

"But that doesn't make sense! That was during the war! Mom was just a tech!"

This was really beginning to get irritating. A slow headache was starting to form behind Senna's left eye – she pinched the bridge of her nose, "Just _where_ is Dustil? He might be able to explain a few things."

"Explain what?" Dustil materialized behind them, making Senna jump and her head throb harder, "What's wrong? Did I miss anything?"

She glared at him and crossed her arms. Of all the nerve. "You missed everything except the internment. And you're barely on time for that. Just _where_ have you been?"

"I had to... meet some people," Dustil squirmed under her gaze, "Some last minute arrangements."

Senna flushed red and prepared to launch into a tirade. Here she was, putting up with the empty empathies and accepting the few _genuine_ comments from people who should never have even been on the radar as acquaintances, much less _friends_, of the family, and her step-brother is off _making arrangements_. Oh. Oh no. Dustil pressed a hand to her elbow.

"Peace, Sen. Ma wouldn't have wanted you to get like this."

Davan snorted, "Yeah, well. After some of the things that I've been hearing about – I'm beginning to doubt that."

Dustil frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Just exactly _what_ was Mom during the Jedi Civil War? And what exactly did she _do_?" Senna hissed. Dustil squirmed.

"S-She was a tech."

"Not buying it. I just had a twi'lek practically take my head off, claiming to have met her on Taris and that," Senna pointed into the crowd, singling out Shen and his wife, where they were making small talk with some obscure Senator, "Is the happy family from Dantooine."

"And in _this _corner," It was Davan's turn to point, "We have a lovely tribe of _Selkath_ who claim that Mom was absolutely amazing on Manaan – that they had never seen a racer like her – and over _there_," He pointed out a green twi'lek, "Is the famous swoop racer, Nico."

"Ma was a high-profile widow. What did you expect?"

Senna narrowed her eyes, "How high-profile was she, Dustil?"

The man swallowed and adjusted the collar of his tan robes, "Ah... Very high profile?"

"Dustil..."

"Hey, kid, you ready to do this?" Senna turned to face her 'Uncle,' who always had the lucky talent of interrupting at just the wrong moment. He grinned at her lopsidedly, "Hey, sweets."

She sighed as Dustil nodded affirmation and squeezed her hands, "Trust me, okay?"

"Alright, alright. Just – what's going to happen?"

"You'll see. Just stick by Davan."

Senna shook her head in defeat as Dustil wandered off with "Uncle" Atton. Davan slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. It felt like it was only the two of them who did not know what was happening, what had happened, and what was going to be. And they were the children! Of course, it didn't help that the entirety of what their mother told them of her past was coming into question – at her funeral no less – and no one was forthcoming with any answers.

Slow music began to play, marking the start of the procession and Davan let his arm drop. This was it. At least for this part, everything was made clear. She was to be buried next to Father, "Aunt" Catherine was going to say a few words, and then everyone was to go home and mourn quietly – instead of shaking hands and sharing tears.

"Davan – who is that?"

At the sound of his sister's voice, Davan looked up to the head of the procession – instead of the customary droid bearers, four people carried the bier. He squinted. One of them was Dustil, dressed in his normal Jedi robes, one was "Uncle" Atton, wearing what seemed to be an old uniform he didn't recognize, one was a salt-and-pepper shaded wookie, and the other was – of all things – Mandalorian.

"What the hell is going on?" he whispered, "This isn't what's supposed to happen."

Senna could only watch wide-eyed as the casket was marched past and out the door. Numbly, the children followed with the rest of the motley crowd trailing behind.

The day was a beautiful one, with a sky of blue and fluffy clouds passing merrily along on a gentle breeze. The funerary procession was far out of place in such weather. The way to the cemetery was only a few blocks long, and it was lined with Republic soldiers in full uniform, saluting as the body passed. When they reached the cemetery itself – Senna forgot how to breath.

It was packed. Mandalorians in full battle armor, Wookies armed to the teeth, Republic soldiers, and Jedi filled the space, leaving just enough room for the procession to go through, making a path to where a pyre was built. "Aunt" Catherine stood at it's foot, waiting patiently in her Jedi robes, accompanied by a blue twi'lek that Senna recognized.

"Davan..."

He squeezed her, "It'll be alright. Just... just don't panic."

"Davan, I'm definitely panicking right now..."

"C'mon, Sen, pull yourself together. I promise we'll get the full story when this is all over."

"We'd better, because someone has a hell of a lot of explaining to do," She hissed.

The bier was placed on the pyre and it's bearers saluted before backing off into the gathering. "Aunt" Catherine bowed her head for a moment, then fairly swished as she drew the attention of the crowd to herself. Senna marveled at how the blond hid her grey hair so well.

"Friends!" Her voice fairly boomed across the clearing, capturing the attention of all who stood there, "Today, we do not grieve a life that was lost. We are here to celebrate a life that was lived. A life that carries on in the creatures she touched, in the lives that she restored. She shall be remembered always. For she was all things – Savior, Conqueror, Hero and Villain. She was a wife and a mother. She was a leader. She was a friend. And she will never be forgot!"

The children of the woman named Raiden, formerly Revan, stood in stunned silence as the former Exile wove a spell over the crowd, eulogizing the good and the bad – the horrors and redemption. When done, the pyre was lit, and the crowd erupted with cheers. Amongst the madness, Senna held tight to her elder brother.

"Davan..."

"You there," The metallic voice was nearly lost amongst the chaotic celebration, but the heavy armor was a demanding presence, "You are the daughter."

Davan pulled his sister back protectively, "What of it?"

The Mandalorian laughed heartily before removing his helmet and shaking his dark, medium-length hair free, "My father was once a companion of your mother's. He always spoke very highly of her."

"Thank you..." Senna ventured cautiously, "I guess...?"

"He also said that any daughter of hers would make a fine wife."

Senna blushed scarlet as Davan sputtered.

"Now, look here you-"

"Jerrick! You leave my niece alone!" Catherine came storming up to the group and effectively boxed the flirtatious Mandalorian across the ear, making him wince and grin widely, "That is no way for you to act!"

"My apologies, General," He gave Senna a crooked smile. Davan glared, "I was just giving the lady my condolences."

The older woman narrowed her eyes at him, "I'm sure. Now scoot. I have business with these two."

Jerrick gave a curt military bow and turned away, but not without sending Senna one last grin. She blushed again.

"Don't mind him. He's harmless," Catherine clasped the hands of her adoptive family, "Now, let's get something to drink and you can question away."

And question they did.

The next morning, a mysterious package was left for a 'Ms. Onasi' at the Embassy. Upon opening it, Senna discovered a very shiny, very ornate vibrodagger. The only indication of who left it was a flimsy dura-plast card with an even simpler message.

_'You look just like her.'_

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Disclaimer: No ownies.

Audio Inspiration: 'Grieve' by Peter Gabriel


	4. Price of Admission

_A/N: Just a little tidbit. I don't know how in character I managed to keep it, after a while the conversation carried on without me, and I didn't get much say after that..._

**Price of Admission**

Exile/Atton

_xxx_

"You know, this would be much easier if you just admitted that you were madly in love with me."

"I'm busy, Atton."

"Sure you are. But it's not like the nav charts are going anywhere."

"You're right. They aren't. But you are. I'm _busy_."

"Well, I told you. It would be much easier if you admitted that you love me. Face it. We all know you do, sweetheart."

"And just _what_ makes you think that I'm madly in love with you?"

"Lots of reasons."

"Really."

"Like now. You're trembling."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Then why are you arguing about it?"

"Wha-? That doesn't even make sense!"

"You think I'm devilishly handsome, don't you. I'll even bet that you wonder how I keep my lips so kissably soft."

"... Are you drunk?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret. Lip balm. Fantastic stuff."

"Or maybe you got into Mandalore's stash of stims again?"

"Nope. Sober as a... well, as a Jedi."

"Go _away_, Atton. I don't have time for this. _And keep your damn hands to yourself already!_"

"What? I'm not doing anything..."

"You will remove your hands from my person or I will remove them from you."

"Don't you mean _for_ me?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Well, no. Sheesh. All I'm tryin' to do is get you to relax a bit."

"I know. I know. I just... I really need to concentrate right now."

"So I'm distracting?"

"Yes. Go away."

"That's a sign of being in love, you know."

"_For Force's Sake!_"

"I'm just sayin'..."

"I am not in love with you, Atton Rand!"

"Hey, if that's what helps you sleep at night..."

"You are unbelievable."

"I know. That's why you love me."

"Okay. Fine. You know what? I'll bite. What _else_ makes you think that I'm so in love with you?"

"It's the way you call me by my name."

"It's your _name_. What else am I supposed to call you? Gammorean pig-man?"

"I never said it was just the name, sweetheart. It's the _way_ – you kind of sigh it. Like... _Atton._"

"... are you sure you're sober?"

"Painfully so. And there's the way you avoid me when we're together."

"It's called personal space. You should learn about it."

"Overrated."

"Says you. So the fact that I use your given name and don't let you plaster yourself to my side so I don't have to breathe your horrible body odor mean I'm in love with you?"

"Yep. That and the way you dream. The ones where it's just you and me. And I've got you flat on your back, making those keening moans that start at the back of your throat and -"

"_You will stay out of my head, Atton Rand._"

"Now look here, sister. I ain't goin' into your head. You broadcast the damn things so far that I wouldn't be surprised if they made it all the way to Coruscant. I'm sure the whole damn ship picked up on 'em, so it ain't like it's secret!"

"I... broadcast?"

"Damn near kept me up half the kriffin' night. Why do you think that the Golden Boy Wonder avoided you for near a week?"

"I thought -"

"I'm sure you did. Nothing to be ashamed of. I am a fine specimen, after all."

"... you're such an asshole."

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

"_Please_ go away, Atton."

"Not until you admit it."

"Why? Will it soothe your poor, jilted male ego? Don't think I didn't see you completely and utterly _fail_ to pick up that twi'lek last night."

"Eh... you saw that, huh?"

"Every second, Slick. _'Hey, darlin', how's about shakin' some tail this-a-way?' _Not exactly the smoothest line in the universe."

"It's worked in the past! How was I supposed to know she'd get offended and have Daddy's grunts jump me?"

"Do you know anything about women?"

"Plenty! Most of 'em are money-grubbing thieves and none of 'em are worth getting involved with for longer than a week or so."

"... what?"

"- And then you've got the psychopaths, like Mira, and the creepies, like Visas, and the ones who want you to be their thirteenth baby's daddy just to get a few more cred for their spice fix."

"Can we forget that we're having this conversation and go our separate ways?"

"You started it. If you'd just admit-"

"Dammit, Rand! I don't have to 'admit' anything! There's nothing to 'admit'! Now if you'd just kriffing leave me the hell alone for five minutes-!"

"So... there's nothing?"

"Right. Nothing. Go away."

"Not even a little infatuation?"

"_No._"

"Huh. Well, ah... I guess I'll be in the cockpit if you need me..."

"Thank you."

"Are you sure you-"

"_Just go!"_

"Okay! Okay!"

His footsteps faded into the background as Catherine went back to studying the navigation charts, but her thoughts kept betraying her to a certain scruffy nerfherder...

"Dammit."


End file.
